


We'll Make It Happen

by lunarorbits



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, RIP, Self-indulgent smut, VictUuri, Victor barely has to do any work, Victuri, Yuri is a winner, Yuri the Bachelor, and now i can't even think of a title, but not really? victor does the succ, he's a good, oh my god deliver me from this hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarorbits/pseuds/lunarorbits
Summary: “Yuri.” Victor's voice is calm like pond water, but there’s something vaguely frantic in the way his eyes study the smooth black planes of his body. Yuri itches under the gaze, under the suit, under his skin. “It seems like there’s more to your eros that we can explore.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place right after episode 3  
> Update: in light of recent episodes I know that this fic is now pretty obsolete but I hope it's still readable /cringes

Yuri feels pressure on his waist, feels the warmth of Victor’s hand through the skin-tight fabric, and blushes deeper when that hand slides down to cup his hip.

  
It’s been maybe 10 minutes since they left the ice, with Victor’s arm wrapped securely around him ever since the pedestal, keeping him calm and making him strong for the news crews, the fans, his friends. ‘He’s very tired, and we have much to discuss,’ Victor had spoken out to the hungry crowds, curling Yuri in towards himself like the reaching hands might snatch him away. ‘Your best chance of getting an interview with Yuri would be to visit the beautiful hot springs of Yu-topia Akatsuki! We’ll see you all there!’ He’d smiled and waved flippantly, leading Yuri from the disappointed groans of the masses.

  
It was all a daze, how he arrived here. Alone in a dressing room with Victor, who doesn’t really seem like he brought Yuri here to critique his performance. Still in his skates, Yuri stands taller than his coach and chokes when Victor pulls on his hip, raising his lips to Yuri’s ear. “Were you really imagining pork cutlet bowls?”

  
“I…” Yuri hesitates, swallows deeply, “I know who I was dancing for.” It’s breathy and honest, and Victor leans away to give him a knowing smile. The sinuous, mischievous curve of his mouth, the way it reaches his eyes, the silent questions Victor is asking, they have Yuri’s heart pounding absolutely violent against his ribs.

  
“A-And it’s thanks to them that I found my true eros,” he finishes, smiling gently with unbridled gratitude and admiration for his coach.

  
It’s obvious that throws Victor for a loop— he blinks slowly, steeping in a moment of thought before regaining his footing and charming Yuri with a sly wink. “Hopefully,” he sings, “you can draw on that eros whenever you may need it.”

  
Yuri knows he’s being teased, but also realizes the truth behind the statement. He’s grateful for the experience, for Victor’s unwarranted confidence in him, and for the win.

“Of course, Victor.”

  
The hand on his hip squeezes ever so slightly when Yuri utters his name, soft and sure. A beat of silence, then Victor blurts “Okay! Pop quiz!”

  
The pleased expression on Victor's face drains the remaining energy from Yuri's body. _Now? God, he's_ ruthless _—_

  
But Victor's wide, dazzling smile doesn't last, fading into something quiet and serene. “Can you show me that look again?”

Eyebrows knitted together, he runs a hand through his slicked-back hair, clueless. “What look?”

  
“The look from the program. That gaze, like you could have your way with anyone in the rink and you knew it. _That_ look.” Victor ghosts his other hand along the line of Yuri’s jaw, thumb swiping over his bottom lip, a position Yuri is all too familiar with. “Show me.”

  
When the words finally register, Yuri breaks from his trance a blushing wreck. “O-Oh! Um, right. I’ll try.”

  
“On Love: Eros” reverberates through his head, echoing behind closed eyes. He inhales shakily, and realizes he can use Victor’s closeness to his advantage. _I am the beautiful woman in town that seduces the playboy. Time to turn the tables on_ him _for once_.

  
Honestly, the way Victor melds to him when he’s roped in by the waist is _perfect_. He has to look up to meet Yuri’s gaze, surprise coloring his face. And Yuri— he follows his erotic instinct, lets it guide each subtle movement of his body. His mouth twitches into a mirthful smile, like he might laugh at how pathetically helpless Victor is, how desperately he must want him. Yuri is taut and still like a predator, holding him like a threat. Sliding his hand from the small of Victor’s back up his spine, he counts the scapula and revels in the vibrations of a barely-there shiver.

  
And then he drops Victor into a low dip, a flash of movement that stops time, becomes languid and sensual. _Not part of the program,_ Yuri’s thoughts scream, but he leans down regardless and brushes back the bangs from Victor’s face.

  
Blue eyes wide, stunned and marveling, Victor _melts_. He leans his head back, murmurs “impressive,” and Yuri takes note of how the words move the tendons in his pale, bared neck.

  
Then, he lifts them both back to a standing position, smiling timidly. “It’s not me, but I can make it work.”

  
Victor grins wide, breathless and excited. “You certainly can.” He clears his throat, smooths his rumpled jacket, and gestures to Yuri’s feet, then to a bench in the empty dressing room. “Let’s get you out of those.”

  
Compliant as ever, Yuri sinks onto the bench and twiddles his thumbs as Victor loosens his laces. He grips his calves while pulling at the snug skates, and Yuri tenses on reflex. He inwardly chastises himself, knowing it's a habit that needs to be broken; eventually, he'll _have_ to get used to Victor's touch. Yuri has boundaries that are often not crossed, and the fact the Victor does so freely, with grace and sensuality, keeps him constantly on his toes. If only he could permanently live as a creature of eros, pretending to be the object of crippling desire instead of the one subjected to it. He’s absorbed in the fantasy when he realizes the skates are off, but Victor’s hands haven’t left his legs.

  
“Something wrong?” he questions, heart drumming an uncomfortable beat in his chest.

  
“Mmm,” Victor hums roguishly in response, careful not to meet his pupil’s concerned gaze as he glides his hands upwards, probing at the tender ligaments behind his knees. “Just checking for muscle tightness. You’ve been working hard, and I want to make sure nothing holds you back.” When he arrives at Yuri’s upper legs and firmly massages the form-fitting fabric at his inner thighs, Yuri nearly faints with how quickly the blood leaves his head.

  
“I-I’m fine, I feel great, please don—” Victor’s hands are too close, too firm, too suggestive, and the noise slips out before he can stifle it. “— _ahh_.”

  
_Oh, shit._

  
Victor freezes, and the whole room fills with Yuri’s half-moan. It hangs in the air heavy and explicit and Yuri is waiting for Victor to leap back in disgust, wishing his soul would leave his body. Except, his hands haven’t moved an inch; in fact, they look to be trembling, but Yuri can’t be sure if that’s him, or Victor. While Victor might still be willing to listen, he should try to salvage this mess.

  
“T-That wasn’t what it sounded like. You just, um, you hit a sore spot,” Yuri panics, head painfully light and foggy and he hates the way his voice wavers on every word.

  
Victor doesn’t respond, expression unreadable.

  
_I finally get him to stay, and now I wouldn’t blame him for leaving. I'm weak. I let my feelings get in the way of working with the best skater in the world._ Yuri hangs his head and stands, embarrassment searing red-hot beneath the sparkling costume. “Sorry. Please try to forget it. I’ll head home n—”

  
His words become lodged in his throat when Victor stands as well, and instead of turning away, pushes Yuri back down onto the bench.

  
“Yuri.” His voice is calm like pond water, but there’s something vaguely frantic in the way this eyes study the smooth black planes of his body. Yuri itches under the gaze, under the suit, under his skin. “It seems like there’s more to your eros that we can explore.”

  
Now he _burns._ “What do you mean?”

  
Victor bends down, frames Yuri’s warming face with cool hands, eyes trained on his lips. “You’re a very attractive man, Yuri. I’m starting to regret giving you this assignment.” His expression is somewhere between a grimace and a smile as he inches closer, so gradually that Yuri hardly notices the space between them disappearing. He’s lost in blue, ice blue, and in his voice, which seems to drip down Yuri’s skin like warm water, leaving him boneless. “Let me kiss you.”

  
When Yuri, doesn’t speak, _can’t_ speak, Victor adds, “please.”

  
He vaguely remembers nodding his head and then Victor’s mouth is pressing into his, hands tilting his jaw just-so. Victor feels like warmth and winter, smells like jasmine and mint.

  
“Let me hear that noise again,” Victor insists against Yuri’s lips, something dark in his tone.

  
And he would say it was a dream, if everything wasn’t so tangible. Victor is undeniably _there_ , weaving his lips with Yuri’s, introducing his tongue, purring soft pleasure down his throat. It’s Victor’s hair that Yuri fists his hands into, the grey silk strands sliding between his fingers like a luxury— and it’s Victor’s responding open-mouthed gasp that makes Yuri’s cock jump.

  
Although Yuri is satisfied, _more_ than satisfied with just being able to _kiss_ Victor, his hands clinging to his hair and back, it’s apparent Victor wants more. He gives Yuri another deep, immodest kiss before moving to his neck and burying himself there, nosing at the pulse beneath Yuri’s softly flushed skin. Yuri cranes his head to allow him room, heart fluttering unevenly with each warm exhale against his jugular. It almost seems like Victor can’t decide what to do— suck, lick, or bite Yuri’s neck— so he does them all, and the desperate noises they elicit from Yuri have them both breathing heavily. Bruises bloom on his fair skin, and Victor soothes them with his tongue before gently nipping and moving along, marking several areas on Yuri’s neck.

  
There are hands everywhere— dragging down his spine, tracing the lines of his abs, framing his waist, grabbing his chest. All this attention, being touched and kissed in ways he never had been before, has Yuri shamefully hard. In this costume that clings to him like a second skin, there’s no way that Victor wouldn’t notice the bulge between his legs if he happened to look down, and it drives him _crazy_. He squirms when Victor traces the V of his neck with his tongue, and begins grinding his thighs together in a steady rhythm, needing some sort of friction. It’s ecstasy, the thin fabric sliding smooth against his cock, and Yuri sighs in blissful relief.

  
That catches Victor’s attention. When he sees Yuri’s euphoric expression, sees his legs pressed eagerly together, sees the obscene bulge between them, he realizes what’s happening and chuckles, splitting Yuri’s thighs apart to sounds of whimpered protest. And it’s the look Yuri gives him— nervous, excited, _aroused_ , that has him drop to his knees between his spread legs. “If you want,” he says, rubbing teasing circles into Yuri’s hip beneath the costume’s half-skirt, “I could take care of that. I’d like to.”

  
Yuri wants nothing more than to say yes, but first, he has to know. “ _Why?_ ”

  
The genuine confusion mixed in his trembling query actually has Victor pause. His icy gaze flits upwards to Yuri who’s flushed and panting, loose strands of ebony hair cast about his forehead.

  
“You showed me your alluring side.” Yuri’s breath hitches at the praise and he feels like he might implode when Victor’s ears turn vibrantly pink. “To be blunt, you’re sexy, Yuri. That’s why. Do you not want me to?”

  
Yuri braces himself on Victor’s shoulders as he rolls his hips into empty air, an obvious answer. “No one’s ever told me that before,” he breathes, still in disbelief that _Victor Nikiforov_ , his idol, his teenage dream, thinks that _he_ is sexy.

  
“Well, after tonight,” Victor hums confidently, “every person who was watching is thinking the same thing.”

  
Each word goes straight to his dick, and Yuri knows he’s in danger of coming un-touched if Victor keeps complimenting him like this. He’s tired of talk, tired of teasing, tired of the way Victor’s fingers roam every inch of his body except where he _needs_ them to be, so Yuri seizes his wrist, palms his own dick with Victor’s hand, and grinds _hard_ against him.

  
It’s rare for Victor to be at a loss for words, yet he has none as he stares, enraptured by the way the dark fabric shimmers when Yuri rolls his entire body, chest to groin, lifting his hips and keening sweetly as he presses Victor flush against his cock. “Beautiful,” Victor murmurs absently, ghosting his other hand down Yuri’s quivering abdomen, and Yuri shudders with violence at the delicate touch.

  
“Victor…” Yuri whimpers, falling into a steady rhythm, grip tightening around his slender wrist. By the insistent heat under his palm and the pleasured curl of Yuri’s fingers on his shoulder, Victor realizes it’s a plea for more. Decisive, he moves his hands to grapple Yuri’s hips, pinning him down to the bench, and before Yuri can begin to question him Victor leans forward to mouth roughly at his erection.

  
Yuri’s back bows, a perfect arch, losing himself in the new sensations of wetness and warmth. Swiping his tongue along Yuri’s length, Victor purrs and kneads the muscles of his lower back, moving even lower until he’s pawing at Yuri’s ass. The clinging fabric leaves little to Victor’s imagination; he feels every throb of Yuri’s cock against his tongue, feels the give of flesh as he lightly scrapes his teeth down the length. He traces the shaft with his lips, sucking soft at first, then relentlessly as Yuri’s moans become louder, longer. By now, pre is mixing with saliva in the front of Yuri’s tights and something vaguely resembling panic rings in his head.

  
“V-Victor… your costume… I don’t want to—”

  
“ _Your_ costume,” he quickly corrects him, lips numb and wet and red as he nuzzles the damp bulge between his thighs. “You’ve earned it. And besides…” He knows that this will affect Yuri, and gazes up at him in anticipation. “… It looks _stunning_ on you.”

  
Sure enough, the worship rips a moan from Yuri in a high treble that’s just _unfair_ , his eyes fluttering shut and pink mouth falling open. That expression sends a strong jolt through Victor’s dick, along with a surge of affection that feels more or less like a punch to the gut. Victor shivers, forcing himself to avert his eyes. He can’t afford to be any more turned on; after all, he isn’t planning on asking Yuri to return the favor. Not tonight, at least.

  
Glancing down through his lashes, Yuri watches, amazed, as Victor eagerly laps at the tented fabric. He isn't expecting to be jerked to the edge of the bench, an adequate distraction from the hand that slips between his thighs. And when Yuri feels Victor cup his balls, applying light pressure to his entrance, it’s enough to have him _writhing_ , legs spreading wider on raw impulse. With cautious maneuvers and prods, Victor tests Yuri’s reaction to the concept of being fingered— and it’s certainly positive.

  
“Has anyone else touched you here before?” Victor asks, noticing the stretched fabric between his legs is slightly transparent, like a dark veil. Yuri shakes his head, groaning headily in reply. Victor’s next question is for his own personal satisfaction, something to think about at night, alone. “Have you touched yourself here before?”

  
Victor feels Yuri clench beneath the pads of his fingertips and _god_ , it makes his blood boil. So, that’s a yes. He wishes he’d never asked when he starts to wonder just how tight Yuri might feel wrapped around his cock.

  
The small smile Yuri sees on Victor’s face before he leans down makes his heart stall in his chest. Christ, he’s _really_ enjoying this. He’s enjoying watching Yuri fall apart, without even having to take his clothes off. If he hasn’t figured it out by now, Victor must realize what he means to Yuri—what he _does_ to him. Every word he says, every move he makes is an aphrodisiac, and if he doesn’t stop sucking on the head of his cock, Yuri is going to _explode_.

  
A rich, airy laugh draws his attention. Predatory eyes watch him beneath thick white lashes, glowing with amusement. “You really are a bachelor, Yuri. Ready to come, and I haven’t touched any skin below your neck.” He sighs hotly onto Yuri’s straining cock. “Which is truly a shame. I never thought I’d hate this costume, but it keeps getting in the way.” Victor smirks and prods his tongue against Yuri’s entrance, and Yuri yelps, dick visibly twitching before his eyes.

  
“If you think this is good” he murmurs, tone silky and low and private, “imagine what we could do if I took this off.” He plucks at the damp fabric covering Yuri’s cock, draws it up and lets it snap back down.

  
Maybe it’s his voice, the voice he uses solely for Yuri, maybe it’s the kiss he plants to the inside of Yuri’s quivering thigh, maybe it’s the fact that Yuri now knows Victor wants to do _more_ , but _something_ drives him to the brink of orgasm. He holds his breath with eyes screwed shut, goosebumps rising, toes curling. _So close_. And when Victor climbs his torso to whisper in his ear, “ _Come for me,_ ” he does. Hard.

  
He’s never been so blindingly hot in his life, has never experienced the intensity of orgasm from another’s hands. Yuri arches into Victor as he comes, burying his face in his neck and scraping his back with hands frantic for purchase. Rigid and damp with sweat, he moans open-mouthed into Victor’s collar as he soaks the front of the costume.

Victor continues to whisper smoothly, “good, good,” and “you sound so beautiful Yuri”— sweet nothings that ease him through. And when he finally rides the last wave of staggering pleasure, empty and sated, he goes limp in Victor’s arms.

Not missing a beat, Victor turns to sit next to him on the bench and lays Yuri’s head in his lap. Gently, almost soothingly, Victor combs the hair back from his warmly flushed skin, waiting with bated breath for Yuri to open his eyes.

  
He doesn’t, just mutters “ _holy shit_ ,” in the silence and Victor can’t help but laugh, a bubbling sound like soda pop, sweet and fizzy. Yuri smiles to himself, the creases between his brows relaxing, the heaving of his chest slowing. He doesn’t even flinch when he feels Victor’s lips press chaste against his forehead.

  
Finally, he greets Victor with invitingly rich, brown irises. _Too good to be true_ , his doubtful thoughts persist, even as Victor gazes down at him with familiar warmth. “That wasn’t exactly how this was supposed to go,” Victor begins, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. Yuri is stunned by the faint blush on his cheeks; he never imagined he’d get to see Victor _flustered_. How could this be same man who struts boldly around the springs without a towel or a shred of decency? Yuri bites back a fit of gleeful laughter, eyes sparkling; he’s allowed to see a side of Victor that the world doesn’t know, and it _thrills_ him.

  
“But I’m glad it went the way it did,” Victor finishes his thought, looking curiously to Yuri. “I hope you are too. I mean, you seemed to enjoy yourself.” All traces of sheepishness gone, his saccharine smile is now an implicit taunt. Yuri leers back bitterly.

“I’m not going to enjoy getting this costume clean.” He shifts his legs, uncomfortably wet. “But… what about you?” Yuri feels the bulge in Victor’s pants beneath his head and his cheeks stubbornly flush with color, despite everything.

  
“Don’t worry about it,” he replies dismissively, waving away Yuri’s offer. “Tonight is about your victory, so you’ll just have to owe me one.” He winks and Yuri blushes deeper, if possible, at the suggestion. Apparently, this is Victor’s way of rewarding him for winning; suddenly Yuri is even _more_ motivated to bring home gold from the Grand Prix.

  
Victor takes him by the shoulders and sits him upright, patting him on the back. “Okay, Yuri,” he declares, adding an odd touch of normalcy to the situation, “go take a shower, and we’ll head out.”

  
Miffed, Yuri deadpans. “Did you really just pat me on the back? After _that_?” But he can’t argue; he’s eager to clean up the mess between his legs. When he stands, wobbling slightly, cum trickles down the inside of his thigh and he huffs at the strange sensation.

  
And maybe it’s the endorphins, or the giddiness, or the afterglow, but he’s completely fine with Victor slapping his ass on the way out.

**Author's Note:**

> UHHHHH this is my first published fic and it's smut to boot so ... go easy? This was flat out fun to write and I miiiight do a sequel where Yuri returns the favor if people actually read this and react well to it. Please suspend all belief for this one folks it is super self-indulgent. A big ole thanks to kori24 and cellaira for reading and giving me a reason to finish this sin. I need to just post this or I'll sit here all night changing words one at a time. My tumblr is lunarorbits if you want to shoot me an ask, and of course I will be wildly grateful for any comments or kudos!  
> Update: I'm gonna do a sequel lol you guys' comments and kudos are killing me softly thank you SO MUCH for the support


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